


With you, I'm brighter

by dollsome



Category: Parks and Recreation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s kind of nice to know that one person will always jump at the opportunity to spend time with her. Even if that person is Tom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With you, I'm brighter

“So, _Ann_ gelina _Ho_ lie—”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“—I’ve been thinking.”  
  
A good sign in most human beings, but Tom Haverford is not most human beings. Like … at all.  
  
“Go on,” Ann says warily.  
  
Tom’s eyes light up at her approval. His face’s ability to transition from normal(ish) to cartoon character in less than a millisecond will always weird her out. “Okay, answer me this one. If we were going to have a threesome—”  
  
“Okay,” Ann says, “we’re broken up.”  
  
“What?” Tom says. “Nooooo!”  
  
  
+  
  
  
But she’s getting sick of coming home to an empty house, and she’s also sick of feeling guilty about taking up too much of Leslie’s Ben time when the campaign is already taking up so much of Leslie’s _life_ time. And, well, it’s kind of nice to know that one person will always jump at the opportunity to spend time with her. Even if that person is Tom. So she calls him, and doesn’t even spend much time having a self-loathing-tinged debate with herself over it first.  
  
“Ann!” he happy-yelps. She appreciates the absence of a nickname. Then he recovers with, “Hey, boo, what up?”  
  
“What were you going to say?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“About the totally-never-going-to-happen-under-any-circumstances threesome. You’ll be lucky if you ever get a twosome. You know this, right?”  
  
“Suuuuure, baby.”  
  
“Tom.”  
  
“Yep,” he mumbles, chastised, “I know.”  
  
“So – just for the sake of morbid curiosity – you were going to say … ?”  
  
“I was going to _say_ that if we were gonna have a threesome, first we’d have to wait ‘til scientists perfected the art of human cloning, because girl, you’re so beautiful the only ménage a trois I want is ménage a _Anns_.”  
  
“Dude,” Ann says, “you _suck_ at this.”  
  
“Give me a break, Ann! My longest relationship was my unconsummated green card marriage. To a _Canadian._ ”  
  
Well …  
  
“And yours was Andy.”  
  
“Touché,” Ann grumbles.  
  
There’s a moment of prickly, ‘what the hell are we even doing?’ silence.  
  
“You wanna go to the movies?” Tom says then.  
  
“Sure,” Ann sighs. “Why not.”  
  
  
+  
  
  
They see The Woman In Black, and Tom gets so scared he accidentally throws his popcorn on the people sitting in front of them. He also whimpers a lot and, at one point, buries his face in Ann’s shoulder.  
  
“Wow,” Ann mutters to him, “so this is what it’s like to be the man in the relationship.”  
  
“Shut up,” Tom squeaks into her shoulder.  
  
“Can I borrow a tampon? Or maybe your Charlie St. Cloud DVD?”  
  
“Hey.” Tom lifts his head back up so he can glare at her. “The Zef is legit.”  
  
“You actually _have_ a Charlie St. Cloud DVD?”  
  
“Newsflash, Ann: ballers like me have feelings too. I know it’s hard to look past the manly exterior, but – eeeeeeeeeeekkkkk! Run, Harry Potter, run!”  
  
“How are you the absolute worst and the absolute best at the same time?” Ann wants to know.  
  
Tom peeks at her from between his fingers. “Best?”  
  
“Mostly ‘worst.’ Tiny bit of ‘best.’”  
  
“I’ll take it!” Tom says merrily. And then, thanks to some spooky onscreen haps, starts hyperventilating a little.  
  
  
+  
  
  
She lets Tom come back to sleep over at her place, in a strict on-the-couch capacity. He’s way too freaked out to be on his own during the night, and just between you and her, Ann’s feeling a little spine-crawly too. She lets him wash up in the bathroom first while she makes up the couch for him, going for the linen closet while Tom berates her for her limited range of skin care products. She smiles a little, figuring it’s okay since he can’t see her.  
  
She makes the couch up, puts the tea kettle on, and then gets an evil and ingenious idea.  
  
She decides to roll with it.  
  
Tom is still in the bathroom, chattering away. She turns the hallway light off and tiptoes to one side of the door, letting the shadows camouflage her. And she waits.  
  
The bathroom door swings open. “… and it’s probably a good thing that you never let me touch you without a clothing buffer; what are you under there, like, a crocodile? Crabtree _and_ Evelyn are both crying right now. You know what, if you need a Body Shop guru, all you have to do is as— … Ann? ………… Ann? … _Annberry Sauce_?”  
  
“BOO,” Ann says, and lunges out.  
  
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—!!!!!”  
  
“Whoa, Tom, chill!”  
  
“—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh _why would you do that_!!!!”  
  
“Gotcha!”  
  
“Okay, guess what, my turn: we’re broken up. Nope. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t give me that face. This is for real. _It ain’t no lie, baby, bye, bye, bye!_ ”  
  
“Did you just dump me … with Backstreet Boys?”  
  
“Nsync! _Jeez_ , Ann, come on. And – and stop laughing!”  
  
“I can’t. Possibly not ever. God, that was the greatest thing that’s ever happened—”  
  
“You’re mean,” Tom pouts.  
  
“You’re stupid,” Ann replies, still a little bit laughter-drunk.  
  
“See?” Tom insists, sticking his bottom lip out even more and pointing at her. “ _Mean._ ”  
  
“Oh my God, you are such a pouty baby,” Ann declares. And then (because suddenly she wants to, and the sheer uncomplicatedness of that feeling is so welcome at this point) she kisses him.  
  
Tom freezes. Like, it’s possible he’s turned to stone. She hadn’t really expected that one. She pulls back, briefly, and then goes in for round two.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
“Se-ri-ous-ly—?” he finally says, utterly toneless, against her mouth. Maybe she broke him.  
  
“No,” she says right back against his, “I’m totally kidding right now.”  
  
“I knew it!” He springs away from her. “I knew it, Ann, I knew you’d make fun of me—”  
  
“Oh my God, Tom, I’m not making fun of you, would you just kiss me already?”  
  
“What are the odds of me getting punched in the face over this?”  
  
“Getting higher every second.”  
  
Tom thinks this over, shrugs, and then cups her face in his hands, because apparently they’re suddenly in a Katherine Heigl movie. He kisses her like it’s his dream come true to do it, and, okay, it’s really really hard to hate that. So here she is, kissing Tom Haverford.  
  
When they pull apart, they just stare at each other for a good five seconds.  
  
Then, at pretty much the same time:  
  
“Daaaamn, girl, your lips got _moves._ ”  
  
“That was so much less horrible than I expected it to be.”  
  
“Wow, thanks for tha—” And then he gets interrupted by a sudden screeching noise, and jumps about five feet in the air. “WHAT IS THAT.”  
  
That just gets her laughing again. “It’s the tea kettle, doofus!”  
  
He points sternly at her. “It’s official: you’re trying to kill me. And I will die. Unless you make out with me again right now.”  
  
“Wow,” Ann says. “That’s a really unique medical condition. You should probably get that checked out.”  
  
“Guess what.” He beams at her. “I’m dating a nurse.”  
  
“No way,” she fake-gasps.  
  
He puts his hands on her waist. “Way.”  
  
It’s kind of tempting, to be honest, but—  
  
“Yeah, I’m not burning the house down just so I can make out with you next to my bathroom,” Ann decides, and sets off toward the kitchen.  
  
“Whyyyyy?” he whines. “That sounds crazy-romantic. Like a Rihanna music video.”  
  
“Teatime!” Ann says, and doesn’t slow down.  
  
“Ann – Ann, don’t leave me—”  
  
“Why do you think I can protect you from ghosts?” she demands as he scampers into the kitchen after her.  
  
“Pfft. I don’t. I just want to go to town all over that sweet willowy frame, yo.”  
  
“Yeah right. Baby.”  
  
“Okay, okay, here are your options,” he adds, sinking down into one of her kitchen chairs with a ridiculous amount of swagger. “Tea, more tea, or me.”  
  
“Hmmmmm—tea.”  
  
“ _Lame._ ”  
  
“I’ve got honey vanilla chamomile,” she sing-songs.  
  
“Ooohhh!” His disdain 100% vanishes. “Sign me up. HVC rules.”  
  
“Right??” Ann says – because okay, maybe she’s still feeling a little triumphant over getting the whole Parks department addicted. It’s the little things. She pulls two mugs from the cupboard, tosses teabags in, and starts to pour. She can hear movement behind her, and then Tom’s hands are on her shoulders. She sets the tea kettle down and lets him turn her gently around ‘til they’re facing each other. “What?”  
  
“Hi,” he says simply, and gives her this little smile that basically says ‘I have no idea how to express how much I like you without making a gigantic ass of myself and making you want to die from shame, so here, have this two-letter word instead.’  
  
It seems like he’s finally starting to get the hang of this. And maybe he’s not the only one.  
  
“Hi,” she echoes, smiling back. She reaches up and tousles his hair.  
  
“Whoa! Ann! Not the hair! _What is wrong with you!!!_ ”  
  
“So dumb,” Ann says affectionately.


End file.
